FORD FROWNED as he moved toward the refreshment tables. Was it his imagination, or had Violet seemed rather eager to be rid of him?
He was hungry, though. He picked up a plate.
“Why so gloomy, Lakefield?” Newton asked, filling a plate of his own at the heaping buffet. Gresham College was certainly welcoming the Royal Society back in style. “Are you not enjoying the festivities?”
Ford straightened his face. “I’m enjoying them immensely.”
“Mmhm.” Newton cast him an appraising glance as he added a strawberry to his selections. “Lady Violet sure is lovely, isn’t she?”
“No. I mean, yes, of course she’s lovely.” Violet did look especially lovely tonight, what with her hair dressed in elegant curls, her ears and throat glittering with diamonds, and her new ballgown hugging her figure in all the right places.
But even more stunning was the infectious smile that had hardly left her face all evening. The excitement in her eyes that had seemed to light up the whole courtyard. He’d never thought to meet a girl excited by science, or anything much academic. Tabitha certainly hadn’t been.
Reluctant to follow that train of thought, Ford changed the subject. “I have some news I believe you shall find immensely enjoyable,” he said, choosing radishes and slices of musk melon.
Newton bit into a macaroon. “What’s that?”
“Well…” Ford was dying to share his good fortune with someone who would truly understand. He leaned close and whispered, “I’ve found Secrets of the Emerald Tablet.”
“You found Secrets of the Emerald Tablet?” Newton fairly bellowed.
“Hush! It’s yet to be translated. I’m not ready to announce—”
But it was too late. Heads had turned, and a speculative murmur ran through the room.
Hooke rushed over. “Is it true? Secrets of the Emerald Tablet exists? You have it in your possession?”
“Not at the moment,” Ford hedged. But at the sight of Wren and Boyle approaching, he gave up. They’d find out soon enough, anyway. “I’ve given it to an expert to translate. But yes, I found it, and I own it.”
More men pressed close to hear the incredible news. “How much did it cost you?” someone asked.
“A shilling.” As a stunned silence filled the room, he felt a grin stretch his face. “The bookseller thought it was worthless,” he added.
“I’ll buy it for fifty pounds,” a man offered.
Hooke raised a hand. “A hundred.”
Normally the most polite man Ford knew, Wren elbowed his good friend out of the way. “I’ll pay you five hundred.”
“I’ll double what anyone else offers.”
Silence reigned again as they all turned to look at Newton. His wrinkled suit notwithstanding, the fellow could well afford to honor the bid. He was wifeless, childless, and his father had died three months before his birth, leaving a tidy estate to his only son. Newton had inherited land from a subsequent stepfather as well.
He sounded sincere, and no one moved to say he wasn’t; he was known to sometimes take offense when none was intended.
“It’s not for sale,” Ford said at last. “Not at any price.”
“Well.” Newton held his cup of Rhenish aloft in a toast. “I trust you’ll let me know if ever you change your mind.”
Conversation broke out in a deafening babble as people exclaimed over the find and maneuvered toward Ford to pump his hand and offer congratulations. The room turned hot and close as more guests made their way inside to join the crowd. Spirits were passed hand to hand from the tables to the back of the chamber, and soon everyone was clinking goblets to celebrate the discovery of the decade.
An hour flew by before Ford managed to work his way through the throng and into the corner where he’d left Violet. Along with the rest of Locke’s audience, she was gone. The area had been overtaken by people marveling over Secrets of the Emerald Tablet.
Light-headed with success—and a bit more wine than he customarily drank—Ford hurried outdoors to the improvised ballroom. But the colonnaded courtyard was sparsely populated, and only a few couples graced the dance floor. It seemed every member of the Royal Society was in the refreshment room.
Though another chamber blazed with light, a peek into it nearly had him backing away. It was crammed with chattering ladies—all those deserted, he supposed, by the men in the other room. He pushed his way in, not really expecting to find Violet. She didn’t strike him as the social, gossipy type.
He was correct.
Stopping three times to acknowledge congratulations, he crossed the quadrangle and walked through a building, finding the door to a small, deserted piazza.
The little courtyard looked dark and peaceful, especially after the excitement elsewhere in the college. He stepped outdoors, breathing deep of the fresh night air. Then, suddenly struck by an idea—perhaps not as brilliant as the spectacles, but clever nonetheless—he headed back inside to talk to one of the serving maids.